A Suprise Date
by TerryJ
Summary: Jack McCoy Meets a Suprising Person to Give Him What He Really Needs


**Okay this is my first FanFic EVER. So please review. Of course I dont own any of the characters bladdy bladdy blah. I have to Thank D.F. for all of her help and thoughtful contributions to my first venture into the world of fiction, I owe her alot. :-) I hope you all enjoy!**  
  
"Good night, Jack. Don't stay too long."  
  
"Yeah," he answered absentmindedly, without looking up from his legal pad.  
  
He didn't begrudge Abbie for going home earlier then himself. She had helped him sort through as many of the files as she could. But now it was summations time and there was no way for her to really help him. He always preferred to write alone and at night, with the lights of the city flickering through the window. That was when he was able to make the most magic with his words.  
  
The phone rang. He regarded it with annoyance and considered letting it ring but finally picked it up on the third ring.  
  
"McCoy."  
  
"This is the office of John James McCoy?" a young female voice asked assertively.  
  
"Yes. Who is this?" he responded, more then a bit taken aback at the sound of his full name.  
  
There was silence, no reply, then a click and a dial tone.  
  
He had to admit he was intrigued, but he had no idea who it was who had called. And at almost ten o'clock, he didn't really care.  
  
****  
  
"Stupid, arrogant...of all the things...You would think that it would be simple for them to avoid these types of problems..." Jack barely waited for Abbie to catch up with him as he took long, angry strides down the courthouse steps. "He killed that girl and now he's going to go free because those cops keep on forgetting what the hell is legal and what isn't. I swear, if we lose anymore evidence because of Ed and Lennie..."  
  
Jack stopped in the middle of his rant when he realized Abbie was watching him with a smile on her face.  
  
"What are you smiling at?" he demanded incredulously.  
  
"Well, this isn't exactly the first time we've had a setback, and most have been much worse than this. But you're exploding all over the place and I find it amusing."  
  
"Why is that amusing? We're losing control of this case!"  
  
"Exactly! The Great Jack McCoy is no longer in the driver's seat and it's funny seeing him seethe with anger and try to grapple his way back."  
  
He let out a huff. "We are, might I remind you, talking about a real threat to society. And so, yes, I am concerned. But if you insist on simply laughing at my mental exhaustion, then let's at least return to the office so I can take off this goddamn tie."  
  
"Sounds good," she laughed, as she hailed a cab.  
  
A city cab swung to the curb.  
  
"One Hogan place," Jack said gruffly when he got in.  
  
As the cabbie started the meter, Abbie asked, "So your tirade is due to mental exhaustion?"  
  
Jack groaned and leaned his head back. "Do we have to?"  
  
"I'm just trying to make conversation. But if you're going to be a grump about it..."  
  
He opened his eyes. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just...just tired. There are so many cases on my desk that I can't even begin to give each one the attention it deserves, no matter how late I stay or how early I come in. I try to make everything go as smoothly as I can, but setbacks like this don't help much. We're going to have to spend at least an hour just thinking about what evidence we can scrape together to make up for those damn prints we lost."  
  
She sat back and let out a sigh. He was right. The loss of the motion wasn't a major setback but it did take a lot of the meat off the bone of their case and would be sorely missed. Finding that type of evidence took a lot of time.  
  
Now that she thought about it, Jack had been at the office every morning before her and left after her every night for at least two weeks. They had been faced with an unusually overwhelming onslaught of cases. Most of the more daunting ones she was second chairing for him but she knew he had a much larger case load than herself. She had been coming in fairly early herself in recent weeks, but had also been leaving a good deal earlier than usual -- ever since she had met Danny a few weeks before. She had offered to stay and help narrow down the paper work but Jack had assured her he was set and insisted that she go out and have fun. And she did have fun, although she now realized he probably hadn't had much fun finishing alone what they had both started.  
  
She looked at Jack; his eyes were closed and his head was back. She suddenly felt bad about leaving him with so much work. Why couldn't people just follow the law, she wondered.  
  
Feeling guilty, she suddenly said, "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of finding something."  
  
"What?" He lifted his head and looked at her blankly.  
  
"Thinking of something to replace the prints - I'll take care of it. I know the case pretty well and most of the files are in my office anyway, so I'll find some extra evidence to build up the case. You've been doing a lot lately. Go home. Do something with your life," she added with a grin.  
  
The cab pulled up to the curb and he held the door for her as she got out.  
  
He smiled wryly as he walked with her to the door of the large building that was the headquarters of the Manhattan D.A.'s office. "Do something with my life? Work IS my life. Either that or a bottle of Scotch, and I believe my liver would prefer I stay here. And so, I shall."  
  
She rolled her eyes as they got into the elevator. "That is the most pathetic thing I have ever heard."  
  
"What?"  
  
"'My job is my life'," she said in a mocking voice. "Go out to dinner with someone or something."  
  
He put on a rare, teasing face. "Ah, but for once, unlike you, Ms. Harlot, I have no one to go on a date with."  
  
As the doors opened and he began to walk towards his office, she put her hands on her hips and stared after him incredulously for a brief moment.  
  
"I figure we can start by going over those receipts again," he said, ignoring her mock indignation.  
  
Following him down the hallway, she said, "Actually, I'm going to get finish up the paperwork on the McCullach case first. I'll swing by your office when I finish up."  
  
"Oh I don't know about that. I may be gone on some hot date by the time you finish."  
  
"All the better."  
  
They both grinned at each other before heading off in the direction of their respective offices.  
  
As he passed her desk, his receptionist grabbed his arm.  
  
"Wait; there's a young woman in there. She doesn't have an appointment and she won't give me her name. She insisted on going in - said it was important. I couldn't do anything."  
  
He sighed heavily and tightened his tie again. "Okay."  
  
When he opened the door to his office, there was a young woman of about 22 sitting in a chair by his desk who didn't seem to notice that he had come in. He walked around his desk and looked at her.  
  
"Hello," he said a bit harshly.  
  
She looked up from an opened book in her hands. She had been going through his copy of the New York penal code, which he found slightly odd. She also had taken one of the picture frames off of his desk and had it in her lap.  
  
He was about to angrily ask what she was doing there when suddenly, he knew. She had long brown hair and dark seeking eyes. Although she was by no means fat or large, she was not petite, either. She had a strong, athletic body and he guessed her to be about 5 foot 8. He watched as her eyes scanned his face and something felt like it caught in his throat.  
  
"Hello," he said again, much more gently.  
  
She paused a moment, then held up the frame. "You have my picture."  
  
"Yes. I have a picture of you from every year of your life."  
  
She sat back, obviously thinking. The silence seemed to go on forever as her dark brown eyes seemed to be boring right through him. "So it's true then. You're my father."  
  
He sat down, surprised not so much at what she said -- that much he had realized when he saw her. What surprised him was how she said it, like it was something new for her, as if she were the one surprised.  
  
"Yes, I am. You sound like that's new information to you."  
  
"Fairly."  
  
"What do you mean 'fairly'?"  
  
"Well, I only found out last week that Dad isn't my real father."  
  
He almost started in his seat. "What!" he demanded. "You mean to tell me that in 22 years your mother hasn't told you about me?"  
  
"No," she replied straightforwardly. "But it doesn't appear that you made much of an effort, either."  
  
There was a hint of accusation in her voice and he recognized the inflection to be similar to his own. The thought put a little smile on his face. At the same time, he was stung by the anger and distance he felt from his daughter.  
  
He paused for a moment before quietly proceeding. "There is an explanation for my distance, but there's time for that later. Right now, I'd like to know how you did find out if your mother didn't tell you."  
  
"I was just accepted to NYU Law and wanted to bring my social security card to New York with me. Mom gave me the key to a lock box and I found my birth certificate in there as well. I realized I had never seen it, so I read it. But Frank Morgan wasn't listed next 'father's name.' Rather, it was a name I recognized from some of the case law I had encountered in my prelaw classes. So I decided to track you down, since I was coming to New York anyway."  
  
He sat back, dumbfounded. He suddenly remembered something. "You were the one who called a couple of nights ago."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Hmm. If your mother never told you about me, how did she explain the gifts I sent?"  
  
"She always told me she had a friend named Jack in New York who had too much money and no children of his own to spoil, but that was it."  
  
He let out a short laugh at the idea of having too much money. "How is your mother?"  
  
"She's doing well. She doesn't know that I know or that I'm here. She thinks I'm just up a week early to get my bearings straight in the city. She left yesterday, which is why I came today."  
  
"I wish you would've come with her. You look like her," he said, almost to himself. After a moment of silence he asked, "Are you liking the city?"  
  
"It's much busier than San Francisco, but I think I like it."  
  
"Good, good. Have you had lunch yet?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I know a couple of good places. May I take you out for lunch?"  
  
"No, thank you," she replied, speaking firmly.  
  
Jack didn't understand the finality in her tone. "Why not? We could talk. I have questions, you have questions..."  
  
"Look," she cut him off, leaning forward, "I'm not here to start a great, new relationship. I just wanted to see you, to know that you exist. I just wanted…" She paused, then finished, "I just wanted to come."  
  
He sat back for a moment, unsure of how to reply. Even though he could understand her feelings, her words did sting a bit. He also didn't enjoy losing arguments, especially two in one day, about something that he really wanted. And he saw the one chance of becoming close with someone who was important to him quickly slipping away.  
  
He looked her up and down, reading her firm stance and determined motions as she began to get up. But his practiced eyes saw a moment's hesitation and he decided to act upon it before it was too late - before he lost his daughter again.  
  
He spoke loudly and confidently in the tone that he used to show defendants that he was the one in authority. "Well, I am interested in starting a relationship. And I'm sure that you, having been left in the dark for so long, would like some answers. Also, I've been in this city for over 30 years now. It may be helpful for a Pacific girl, such as yourself, to have a seasoned tour guide like me."  
  
She stood and looked at him, unsure of what to say or do. She realized she was at the proverbial crossroads; here was her opportunity to get back all that she had missed, if she wanted to. She had never been one to let opportunities pass her by, but was this what she was looking for? She had already seen all that she wanted. Why make an effort with a man who had waited for her to come to him before making a move? Still, perhaps some good could come from it...  
  
Jack watched her as she slowly sat back down in the chair and eyed him thoughtfully. It was a look he never saw but one that was very familiar to him all the same, as he recognized it to be an attribute of his own. It amazed him that genetics could be so strong. He hadn't seen her since she was three...  
  
"Okay - as long as it's not Mexican food or a hot-dog stand."  
  
Her comment snapped him out of his contemplation.  
  
"Excellent," he briskly replied and quickly rose to grab his jacket. "This way."  
  
When he opened the door, Abbie was standing outside, just about ready to knock…on his face.  
  
"Hello there," he smiled. "We were just on our way to lunch. I'm afraid I won't be able to go through those files with you."  
  
But Abbie wasn't listening to a word he said. She was looking past him at the woman.  
  
"Oh, my...is that..." She pushed her way past Jack and offered an outstretched hand to the young woman standing behind him. "You must be Jennie, Jack's girl. I'm Abbie. I recognize you from Jack's pictures. You should be honored, being one of the few persons privileged to dignify a picture on that desk." She smiled as she nodded towards the only other framed picture -- one of Jack's mother and sister, with a smaller picture of his motorcycle stuck between its frame and glass.  
  
Jennie took the woman's hand tentatively, unsure if she liked being called "Jack's Girl". She had just met this man; it didn't matter if he was her birth father or not. But still...it was true: he did have her picture predominantly displayed on his desk.  
  
As she shook Abbie's hand, she let escape a smile and quiet, "Nice to meet you."  
  
Turning around, Abbie said, "Well, Jack, certainly don't let me and a bunch of dusty files keep you from enjoying some time with your daughter. Please remember what I said in the cab and don't hurry back." With a smile and a quick wave good-bye to Jennie, Abbie turned on her heel and went back to her office.  
  
"She didn't even say what she came to tell me," Jack said with a small smile and shake of his head. "Shall we be off then?"  
  
Jennie smiled and nodded for him to lead the way.  
  
Before following, she took one last look around the office. She wanted to take in every detail of the situation she now found herself in. She had drawn in the sheer size of the city and building that Jack lived and worked in, the devotion of his receptionist as she tried to prevent her from entering, and the feeling of warmth that his office held in contrast to the stern, strictly business atmosphere of the hall she had come in from. The first thing she had noticed when she entered the room was the small sail boat on the window sill. That had made her smile. She loved the water, and sailboats most of all. She also took note of the comfortable well-worn sofa along the wall. The office felt lived in, personal, and she could tell this was where he spent much of his time. She had also studied the look on his face as it had changed from annoyance, to recognition and awe at her presence. She had been amazed to note that the same small characteristics he had displayed were similar to many of her own. And she had noticed the quick smiles that the two lawyers had given each other when Jack had opened the door to find Abbie on the other side. She had seen the warmth and trust on Abbie's face and decided she liked the woman, even though she had at first misinterpreted her relationship with her father.  
  
Jack paused as he began to walk down the corridor, suddenly feeling very excited and happy. "You coming?"  
  
"Yes," Jennie replied with surprising confidence, and followed him down the hall.  
  
They walked in silence mostly, with Jack leading the way to a restaurant that he promised would be delicious. Every now and then, the older McCoy would point out some building or place of interest along the way.  
  
Suddenly, Jennie decided to ask about something. "So what did she say in the cab?"  
  
Jack looked at her, confused.  
  
"The woman in your office, Abbie. She said to not forget what she had said in the cab."  
  
"Oh," he chuckled. "She was telling me that I work too much, and need to go out and get myself a life before I wear myself ragged. Come to think of it, I was feeling pretty run down today. But you seem to have brightened my day," he smiled.  
  
"Oh." She looked at him. He did appear tired. His birth date was on her birth certificate so she knew he was only about 50, but she could have easily mistaken him for being older. His shirt appeared rumpled and his hair ruffled. She could see how he could be perceived as an attractive man, but worn, yes, very worn. She wondered what he had looked like when he was younger and not burdened down by so many years and cases of stress.  
  
After only a few blocks, Jack held open the door to a small but classy-appearing Italian restaurant where they were seated at a table for two by the window.  
  
When the waiter came, they grinned awkwardly as both ordered the penne in clam sauce.  
  
"Well, I'm glad to see my father has good taste."  
  
"Yes...umm...So...well," he started, "How to begin. I guess the best way would be to invite you to ask me anything. I don't care if it's tactful or not. I'm your father and you deserve to have a clue as to why I haven't really acted like one. So anything you want to ask or...say, I guess...anything...yeah..." he trailed off awkwardly, unsure of how much he should guide the conversation.  
  
She sat across the table and stared at him. Jack McCoy. John James McCoy. The brilliant trial lawyer and DA. Any question. If her friends back in her prelaw classes could have seen her, they would have thrown a fit and been ready with a million questions about cases and judges and laws. Up until a short time before, she would have done the same. She had heard much about him even before she knew he was of any relation. Her fascination with the district attorney's office had begun with her junior year civics teacher's adoration of the man sitting in front of her. It was funny that this was her father, flesh and blood, giving her free reign to ask anything, and all she could think of was civics class.  
  
She shook her head and tried to get her mind in the game, to think of pertinent questions. With one more look at him, she decided to get right to the point.  
  
"Why did you and Mom split? Were you ever married to begin with?"  
  
He sighed deeply. Knowing that would be her first question didn't make it any easier to answer. "Yes, we were married, until you were two actually. She had been my assistant, second chairing my big cases and dealing with many of her own."  
  
"I didn't know Mom worked for the New York DA!" Jennie interjected.  
  
"Well she did, and she was a damn good lawyer, too. We were married for a few years before we had you and she decided to take time away from the office to be a Mom. I came home early most nights and consulted her about the cases I had going on. It was a good system; she got to stay as my assistant and be a mother at the same time. We hadn't known each other for very long when we got married. Looking back, it was more than a bit hasty on our part. I think part of it was that she was the only woman I had relations with that I truly respected as well. But we really weren't compatible. We began to bicker more about things as time went on. Coming home early wasn't my cup of tea. I love the office and my work. I loved you more, of course, but there was no one who could pick up the slack at the office for me the way I could depend on your mother to do, so I had to put in more hours. She grew resentful and I felt burdened by her resentment. The bickering fell into arguments...we were on our way to divorce court anyway..." He paused. The memory caught in his throat and he wasn't sure how exactly to relate the rest of the story.  
  
Jennie saw his hesitation, how his eyes flickered with thought, but before she could restrain herself to give him a moment, her insatiable curiosity got the better of her.  
  
"Something else happened, didn't it? Something sped up that sojourn. What was it? What happened?"  
  
He thanked the waiter who came with their food and asked for more water. His throat felt unusually dry. God it was difficult. He hated his ex for not telling Jennie about him. He didn't want to have to explain it all alone. But there she was, looking at him with intense, imploring eyes. It was not how he had imagined things would go at all. He had always intended to visit, but they were so far away. And when he had made the time, there had always been some conflict on their end of the line. He had called occasionally but Jennie had never been available. He was proud of his busy girl. He had pictured her reading his letters and keeping them stored under her bed in some shoe box or something. He wanted her to be happy, and had expected that she at least wished to know him. Now there she was, clueless as to who he was and not wanting to have a relationship, but imploring as to what it was that had brought the end to his ill-fated marriage.  
  
He took a long drink from his water and started up again. "First of all, I should explain that your grandfather, my old man, was abusive, to me and to my mother." Jennie's face contorted into a look of horror and disgust, but he held up his hand to pause her words. "Wait, it's not what you think. It almost was, but it's not." He added regretfully, "I grew up hating my dad. It had started as fear, but as I got older, my fear grew into hate. I swore I would never be like him. Then one night, your mother and I had a fight. She wasn't listening to me. She was ignoring what I had to say and getting madder by the minute. She turned to leave and go for a walk when I was in the middle of explaining myself to her. It made me so angry that I snapped. I grabbed her arm and whipped her around. I raised my arm back in a motion to slap her…and then, I froze. I recognized the look on her face. It was a look I had seen on my mother far too many times and one that I was sure I had displayed too many times as well. It was a look of absolute fear, of being at the mercy of reckless power. Knowing that I had caused that fear stuck me like a knife to the heart. I was him. But I refused to be him. I dropped my hand and released my grip. I think I even started to cry. I don't really remember. All I know was that I said I was sorry as many times as I could, grabbed a duffel bag, and packed some stuff. I spent the night at the office drawing up divorce papers. She pleaded for me to rip them up, saying that she forgave me. But I wouldn't listen. My mother forgave my father far too many times. I knew that if it happened once, it could happen again and I may not be so lucky as to stop the next time. I saw myself as a danger to her and possibly to you. That's why I didn't bother battling for custody or anything else really. She got the apartment, the dishes, and you. The two of you stayed in the city for a while longer and I made many efforts to see you. But she was attractive and smart. It was without surprise that she quickly found your Dad and fell into a deep relationship. A year and a half after our divorce, she informed me that she was following him out to San Francisco and taking you with her. You were not yet four at the time. I didn't want to interfere, so I simply mandated a few things. I wanted to receive at least one picture of you every year so I could watch you grow up, and I asked for a few letters a year telling me what was going on in your life. I also wanted to stay updated on your address so I could write you letters. I wrote you many. Your mother must have intercepted them. I watched you grow up from a distance, never seeming to be able to make times   
  
work to visit. I regret it often, but I am happy to see you here, now."  
  
He leaned back, suddenly aware again of how tired he was. The last letter from his ex-wife had said that Jennie had been accepted to her choice of law schools. But why did she neglect to say that Jennie's choice was NYU? He would have to wait until evening to call and have a talk with the mother of his child.  
  
Jennie sat across from him contemplating. Granted, he was her father, but again, that was only by blood; she had hardly expected him to speak with her in his office, let alone open up so much. She was a fairly good judge of character and she took him for one who didn't do so often. When he had said he would answer anything, she had expected a few carefully worded, neutral sentences -- nothing so revealing as what she had just heard.  
  
"I don't know what to say," she said at last.  
  
"You?" he said with a smile. "I'm the one doing all the talking."  
  
"True, true. So Mom was an ADA, huh? That's cool, I guess." After another pause she asked, "So has that happened since?"  
  
"Has what happened?"  
  
"You getting involved with an assistant. You seemed pretty friendly with that brunette who came into your office. Do I have any half-brothers or sisters running around?"  
  
He sighed. "No, I have no other children. Some may say I have what might be described as a reputation with my assistants. It's rare to find someone outside the office that I trust and am able to share my enthusiasm for the law and my work, though. But I haven't been involved with anyone for a long time and don't intend to be again. Abbie and I are friends, but that's almost a requirement for how we work. There's nothing more, honestly."  
  
"It makes sense that you would find compatible people at work I guess. Why no more?"  
  
"Like I said, I have had a few inner-office romantic relationships. But then there was one..." He paused, unwillingly thinking about the past. "She was different. She was smart, and strong, and witty. She was so vibrant, someone really special. She was the last assistant I felt something for and probably the one I cared for the most. But she died suddenly and tragically. The last things we said to each other were bitter. So now, to look at a co-worker with more then friendship is just inviting painful feelings."  
  
"Oh...I'm sorry to hear that."  
  
He waved it away with his hand. "It was a while ago. It's not so difficult anymore."  
  
Jennie thought she caught something flash in his eyes that belied more than what he had said, but she decided not to pry further.  
  
The rest of the meal was filled with more amicable, light-hearted talk: what type of law she was interested in, why he liked New York more than Chicago, her friends, his friends, likes and dislikes. They both came to realize that they had a lot in common.  
  
When the bill came, he paid and they walked towards the door.  
  
Once outside, Jennie said, "Well, thanks for the lunch..." She suddenly realized she wasn't sure what to call him. Not "Dad"; he was back in California. "Mr. McCoy" would probably be too formal. "Jack" would be too presumptuous on her part. So she decided to just not call him anything. "It was good, but you probably have to be getting back to work."  
  
"Work can wait." He found himself stunned at his own words. He added softly, "I've missed so much of your life..."  
  
She again had the feeling of being at a crossroads, not knowing which way to turn. She really had enjoyed lunch and his company. She knew he would be a great man to get to know. But there was still the damned principle of the thing. After all, he could have come to California a long time ago.  
  
"I told you, I'm not looking for a relationship," she said quietly as she lowered her eyes.  
  
He looked at her for a moment. He knew she hadn't meant what she said and he was not going to allow her to talk herself away from him.  
  
"And I told you that I am. You're a smart girl and, being a future lawyer, you must be good at reasoning and logic. So let's put it this way: you're going to be in the city that I'm in anyway, a city that happens to be far away from your home with no one else close by to offer support of help if needed quickly. You're going to be pursuing a field in which, I am told, I tend to be proficient. I could be a very good source, come finals. And when looking for internships, there are connections that I have. And since   
  
nobody knows you're my daughter, there would be no question that you got through on your own abilities. Use that lawyer wit and tell me what would not be advantageous about having a relationship with me?"  
  
She stood and regarded him for a moment, caught the smile in his eyes, then dug out a piece of paper and pen from her purse. "Here. This is my phone number, address, and name of my roommate. I have a bunch of things that I still need to get done in order to feel truly settled in, but maybe we can have lunch again."  
  
He smiled broadly. "Great." He looked down at the address. "This is a good ways away...let's walk back to the office and I'll give you a ride home."  
  
"I really don't want to take up any more of your time...you're a busy man."  
  
"All of my time is yours. I mean I owe you, what, 20 years?"  
  
"Okay, okay," she agreed.  
  
They walked down the street talking about trivial things, books, music and places they had visited.  
  
"Ireland really is beautiful," he was saying as they reached the building. "Hold on a minute; before I can take you home I have to go grab something."  
  
He reappeared in a few minutes with two large helmets in his hand and walked towards a large black and chrome motorcycle.  
  
"No way!" Jenny exclaimed. "You ride a bike?"  
  
"Yes I do. Is that a problem?"  
  
"Well, no, just unexpected. I mean you're an EADA, and well...gawd, never mind. Just don't tell Mom. She would kill me if she knew I went on one of these things."  
  
He grinned wickedly. "No she wouldn't. How do you think I escorted her on our dates?"  
  
Jennie laughed and got on the back of the bike.  
  
She wrapped her arms around his waist as he took off down the street. It was frightening at first but it gave her a fun sort of rush. The fact that she was comfortable enough to get on one of these death traps with him must mean that she had down the right thing when she gave him her information, she reasoned. He was a good guy; it would be a fulfilling experience to get to know him as her father. It could even lead to more unexpected surprises.  
  
She held on tightly and, before she realized it, they had pulled up in front of her building.  
  
"So I will see you for lunch later then?" she asked while struggling to remove the helmet.  
  
He smiled and aided her in getting it off. "How about in a week? Next Tuesday?"  
  
"Okay. And maybe next time you can ask me questions," she said, returning the smile.  
  
"Sounds like a date!" he replied happily. 


End file.
